I tried. I tried so hard to prevent this. Two weeks ago, I wrote a column to try to help guide people as they discuss celebrity scandals. But, despite my best efforts to shut down rape jokes and victim blaming bullshit, I failed. And now we live in a world where the concept of “un-rape-ability” is a thing.
What does it mean to be un-rape-able? Well, frankly, I have no god damned clue – but I can’t help imagining it as Tina Fey’s next comedic vehicle for Ellie Kemper. But Damon Wayans seems certain that it is a quality that is not only real, but possessed by the majority of women who have accused Bill Cosby of rape. In an interview with Power 105’s “The Breakfast Club,” Wayans chose to share his nauseating thoughts regarding the accusations. After urging Cosby to just, “Tell the truth,” he went into his theory as to what that truth actually is.
If I was him, I would divorce my wife, give her all my money and then I would go do a deposition. I would light one of [those] three-hour cigars. I’d have some wine and maybe a Quaalude and I would just go off, because I don’t believe that he was raping. I believe he was in relationships with all of them, and then he’s like, ‘You know what? It’s 78. It don’t work like that no more. I can’t get it up for any of y’all. Bye, bitches,’ and then they’re like, ‘Oh, really? Rape!’ If you listen to them talk, they go, ‘Well, the first time …’ The first time? Bitch, how many times did it happen? Just listen to what they’re saying and some of them really [are] un-rape-able. I just look at them and go, ‘You don’t want that. Get out of here.’
Wayans then turns philosophical, speculating, “How big is his penis that it gives you amnesia for 40 years?” I don’t know, but the logical philosopher in me can’t help but wonder whether God could make a penis so big that even HE could not remember fucking it. Truly a question for the ages.
While Wayans insists that his heart goes out to any actual survivors of sexual assault, an audible groan was heard through the world as everyone collectively realized that you kind of can’t support victims while claiming they’re appearance makes their assaults improbable. In a way, I’m proud. Pretty much everyone seems really fucking aggravated with his comments.
He, of course, took to Twitter to defend his comments – claiming his words had been twisted while retweeting any scumbag who would come to his defense. Whatever. I’m not sure how you can twist “un-rape-able” to anything other than “too ugly to fuck.” Unless, of course he got cut off mid-interview, and his intended sentence was to continue on to say, “and because I have no concept of the difference between sex and rape, I am drawing a false comparison between the sexual attractiveness of these women and Cosby’s sexual desire, when in reality rape has nothing to do with sex, but everything to do with power and humiliation.” But, even when you give him the “benefit of the doubt,” Wayans still comes off as a rape apologist.
Despite near-universal consensus about his comments, he is still convinced that we are taking his words out of context and applying meaning where there is none. Okay. I’ll play your game. After much consideration, I have come up with my own personal theory, which I like to call, “The Un-rape-ability Factor”. If un-rape-ability is a thing, as Wayans claims, my question is how does one go about acquiring it?
It seems a valuable characteristic to possess. I mean, in an unpredictable world, what girl wouldn’t want to be un-rape-able? I know I sure would. (I can just imagine some model winking at the camera as she hocks a product known the increase your un-rape-ability.) Wayans seems to think that the un-rape-ability factor has something to do with a woman’s appearance, but I’m not so sure. The 51 women who have stepped forward in the Cosby case had widely varied appearances. Hell, Janice Dickinson has even noted sexual abuse by Cosby and she was a fucking supermodel. I suppose it’s a matter of taste – you know, to each their own. But if that’s the case, then the un-rape-ability factor certainly cannot reside in one’s appearance. If the un-rape-ability factor changes based on the perceptions of the rapist, then how are we to protect ourselves?
But if it’s not about looks, it must be something else. Is it some sort of pheromone? Is there a putrid odor that I can emit in order to guard myself against rapists while attracting the attention of nice guys? Could I somehow create a protective circle around myself, utilizing the attention of the maligned men in the friendzone who just want what’s best for me? It seems possible, but still flawed. What if one of those nice guys decides one day that my looks are appealing to him and then all of a sudden I’m back to being at risk rape-able? Dammit! Why is this so difficult?!
Perhaps the un-rape-ability factor resides in my decision to engage in sex – that is, if I just agree to have sex with every person who desires to sleep with me, then I must be un-rape-able. I mean, if I force myself to give my enthusiastic, informed consent to every sexual encounter that comes my way, it would certainly be impossible to rape me – by definition, at least. While this appears to be the most technically correct way to achieve the un-rape-ability factor, it seems daunting and exhausting. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty sure there are way more people who want to fuck me than I can give the proper time and attention. I work and am pursuring a bachelor’s degree full-time. What happens if I refuse one of those encounters because I want to study for a test? I re-enter the rape-able zone. God dammit!
It’s just so unfair. No matter how I try to figure it out, the un-rape-ability factor always disappears at some point. It seems that, by virtue of simply possessing a body, I am incapable of achieving it. I tried my best to figure it out, for the greater good of humankind. What a great thing, to be un-rape-able. But I am sad to report that it seems the un-rape-ability factor is not real.
Someone should probably break the news to Damon Wayans.
Molly Regan is an improviser and writer in Baltimore. She likes chicken pot pie, Adam Scott’s butt and riot grrl.